The Last Autumn Leaf Let's Go; Will New Life Begin?

Since mid-September in northern Wisconsin, USA, the trees resembled yellow, orange, and crimson bouquets. The trees are bare now. The ground and rooftops are frosted. Snow is on its way.
I walked daily during summer and fall, inhaling scents, sights, bird songs, and afternoon shadows. Walking during winter is more challenging. It’s a ritual I need and love for communing with nature, God, and myself.
Letting go is hard. It’s not just a mental decision. It’s inner work to realize reality, and then surrender. I sometimes forget I’m not surrendering to a situation or a person. I’m surrendering to the love of the Holy One, trusting the One will offer new life. When the trees are bare, I forget about the sap within the trees; the inner life that flows, and the roots deep below my being.
I trust there is new life coming. I don’t know what it looks like. I know my heart, mind, and soul need a new life. In my past experience, thinking about what I hope I will be given in the future, the gift given is never what I envisioned. It’s often better in a new form. 
Some say everyone has an angel. I think angels have watched over me and saved me from some events. I want more. I want an angel always in my midst. Not much to ask for, huh?!
I’m lonesome for this part of my family who are over 1,000 miles away. At this point, I can’t travel there. They can’t come here either. If I know a future gathering date, I’m fine; but we can’t set a date at this point, due to illness on my end, and the enormous grief with ever-changing needs on their end.
One of our grandchildren died during Covid-19. It’s wretched. My deceased granddaughter and I were very close. She had just entered her teens. She has two sisters; one is her twin. Her mother is my daughter.
Remember; we couldn’t travel during 2019-2022.
I did travel to be with my daughter’s family when my granddaughter died, but not the many months before time was ripped from all of us in the world. It was risky to travel when she died but I had to do it. As a total family we couldn’t and still haven’t had a family gathering to share our grief and memories. Some of this is because of geography. Some of it is, it’s just too hard for the family-especially her siblings.
Before Covid-19 my husband and I spent every Christmas together since the twins were born. What a gift. I’m certainly glad I was with the family a few days every two weeks since their birth and every Christmas since they were born. 
I remember sweet baby breath on my neck as I held her. Sometimes I held both of them at once. When they were able to hang onto my neck and shoulders, we danced. I was stronger then. Every year they both lay on the floor and gazed at the lights on our miniature three-foot Christmas Tree. 
When I made an apple pie yesterday; I remembered the last time my granddaughter stood, alive, beside me, thinly slicing apples for our pie. 
I want a full-time angel, I said.
I remember, I already have one. She was with me while slicing apples in those salting tears. I bet she’ll walk in the snow with me.

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